Pix’s Note: Today’s entry is almost obscenely short. I’m currently suffering from what I call “Jordanitis,” where I have a start point fixed in mind, an end point fixed in mind, an idea of what’s going to occur somewhere in between, but no (or a very convoluted) map from start point to end point (like the entire Wheel of Time series). I’m going to take this weekend to try to plot the map a little better, but for the people who’ve been chomping at the bit for the next installment (Happy now, Siasha?), here you go.

---

Valyra sat at the table with her face in her hands. She massaged her temples with her fingertips, trying to soothe away a headache brought on by too little sleep and too much stress. It wasn’t working, of course; what she needed was real sleep, but her dreams wouldn’t let her. These past weeks, she had watched Lelissa die in more ways than she could count, and she knew that the end was coming soon.

It was raining today, and that didn’t help her mood. To her, it felt as though the clouds had filtered through her mind, making her thoughts as hazy as the day, and it irked her. Fierevere had returned yesterday with the news: Siasha would not come, and Esmerellda couldn’t decide. Valyra was angry, but it wasn’t Fierevere’s fault that the others couldn’t see the possible outcomes. The thought rankled in her head, curling her lip in distaste, which curled even farther when her nose caught the scent of a wet animal. She looked up, and there stood the two Kaldorei who she had been waiting for.

“About time you two showed up,” she said to Myrlia and Kelarr, the latter of whom smelled awfully like a half-drowned cat.

Myrlia cleared his throat nervously, stammering out a reply. “We ran into unexpected delays.” Kelarr scoffed, and Myrlia nudged him hard with his elbow.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to focus on the situation at hand. Go clean up and take a hot bath. I’ll meet you two back down here in an hour. You can eat while we talk.”

---

Lelissa stood on the grounds of the Argent Tournament, gazing out over the sea from the cliffs high above the water. As always, Purgatory had answered the call for a new challenge, but something about the tournament made her uncomfortable. Why were they participating in this pointless event, with the doors of Icecrown a ballista shot away?

“Copper for your thoughts,” Quillion said, coming up behind her.

Lelissa just shook her head. “Something about this seems wrong, Quillion. We have a war to fight. Why are we even here?”

Quillion shrugged. “Tirion has called us to fight and prove ourselves for Varian Wrynn. The battles in Ulduar are done, and we’ve all been restless. It gives us something to do, and brings hope to the people of Azeroth.”

Lelissa turned to face him, her hand slicing through the air in denial. “We shouldn’t be here. The Lich King hides inside Icecrown, and we sit here participating in these silly games, these so-called tests of skill. We have bested Titans in battle! And now we fight for the sake of an audience? This is ridiculous.”

“We do what we must, Lelissa. We cannot assault Icecrown alone, and if we were to leave now, that is exactly what we would be doing. I will not needlessly risk the lives of Purgatory’s finest. Now let’s get inside. We have enemies to face.”

Lelissa shook her head, turning away. “No, Quillion. I will not fight for the amusement of a king I hold little regard for. If this is the direction that Purgatory is going, then I have other matters that I must attend to.”

Lelissa reached into a pack on the ground at her feet, withdrawing the whistle she used to call Siegadormi, a friend from the Bronze Flight. Raising it to her lips, she blew it, the note carrying long and clear to the wind, though silent to the Draenei’s ears.

“You mean, you have your sister to attend to.”

Lelissa nodded. “She left me for dead. She kidnapped my closest friend to lure me to Icecrown. These are not the actions of my sister, I fear, but of something else. Something darker.”

“Do you think the Lich King holds sway over her once more?”

Lelissa turned to face Quillion again, her eyes flashing with barely concealed rage. “For her sake, I hope not.”